Tag: biblical teaching

Stop Abusing Grace

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Prayer

Father, in the mighty name of Jesus, I refuse to treat Your grace casually.
Break every chain of sin in my life.
Expose every lie my flesh has believed.
Give me a holy hatred for sin and a fierce love for righteousness.
Strengthen me by Your Spirit to reject every temptation and stand boldly for Your truth.
Jesus, thank You for Your sacrifice—teach me to honor it with my life, my choices, and my obedience.
I choose holiness. I choose surrender. I choose You.
Amen.

We talk a lot about grace—Christ taking our punishment, ending the need for sacrifices, shielding us from the wrath of a holy God. But somewhere along the line, people twisted that truth into an excuse to live however they want.
Let me be blunt: grace is not your permission slip to sin.

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Some people ask, “Well, if God won’t punish us anymore, why not just sin as much as we want?”
Because that’s a foolish, flesh-driven mindset. Yes, God still loves His children—but sin will wreck you. It will chew up your life, harden your heart, and make you spiritually deaf and blind (Hebrews 3:13). Grace may remove eternal punishment, but it does not remove consequences.

The Bible doesn’t sugarcoat this:
Whatever you obey, you become a slave to—sin leading to death or obedience leading to righteousness (Romans 6:16). There’s no neutral ground. If you’re indulging your flesh, you are willingly chaining yourself back to the very thing Christ died to free you from.

Sure, God can love someone sitting in a jail cell. But the bars are still there. Their crimes still destroyed lives. Sin always hurts someone—sexual immorality destroys families, addictions destroy bodies and relationships, lies destroy trust, covetousness opens the door to even worse evil. Sin is not harmless; it’s weaponized self-destruction.

That’s why Scripture says we have an obligation—not to the flesh, but to put it to death (Romans 8:12–13).
If you keep feeding your old nature, you will die. Spiritually. Emotionally. Sometimes physically. Grace doesn’t change that.

And let’s be honest—if we truly understand how deeply the Father loves us, we wouldn’t dare treat His grace like a cheap loophole. To use the cross as an excuse to sin is to spit on the sacrifice of Jesus. It’s spiritual arrogance, plain and simple.

Yes, we’re under the law of love now (Romans 13:8–10). Yes, we’re freed from the curse of the Law because Christ became the curse for us (Galatians 3:13). But freedom from the Law was never meant to give us freedom to rebel. It was meant to free us to love, to obey, to walk in the Spirit.

God’s intention has always been for humanity to accept His love. But we rejected it, chased evil, and proved we were utterly incapable of saving ourselves. That’s why a Savior had to come—not so we could go back to our filth, but so we could finally walk in the life, purity, and power He paid for.

Grace is a gift—but it’s also a call to fight your sin, not flirt with it.

Obedience: The True Mark of Christian Discipleship

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today, I’m writing this with trembling hands and a heavy heart—not out of fear, but with the kind of spiritual weight that comes when God stirs something deep in your soul. I feel like the Holy Spirit won’t let me move forward until I sit with this truth: obedience is not occasional. It’s a lifestyle. A commitment.

I don’t want to sugarcoat anything. I’m not here to play Christian dress-up or quote Scripture when it feels convenient. I’m here to live it, breathe it, suffer for it if I have to. And lately, God has been confronting me about what I really mean when I say, “Jesus is Lord of my life.”

Because if I truly believe that, how dare I reserve the right to say “yes, but not right now” or “yes, but not in front of them” or “yes, as long as it doesn’t cost me comfort, reputation, or connection.” Who am I kidding?

Luke 6:46 says: “Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say?”

That verse pierced through me today like a sword. It’s Jesus asking a question most of us dodge with spiritual fluff. We love the idea of Him being our Savior—our Provider, our Comforter, our Deliverer. But our Lord? That’s where we hesitate.

And the truth is, Lordship means ownership.

If He owns me—my body, my choices, my time, my future—then obedience is not optional. It’s expected. Not from a place of fear or pressure, but love and honor.

I think of Hebrews 13:5, where God says, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”
That’s not a cute quote for a coffee mug. That’s a promise to carry with us when obedience leaves us standing alone. When saying “yes” to God means losing relationships. When obedience costs us popularity, stability, or dreams we once held dear.

And He will ask us to surrender things we value.

Why? Because He’s cruel? No. Because He’s holy. And we can’t carry our idols and His glory at the same time. It’s one or the other.

I’ve had to wrestle with this personally. God recently asked me to walk away from a situation that wasn’t sinful in the eyes of the world—but it was disobedient in the eyes of God. I knew it. Deep down, I knew I had to walk away.

But do you know how hard it is to obey God when everyone around you is choosing convenience over conviction?

That’s when Romans 8:28 anchored me: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

All things. Even heartbreak. Even loneliness. Even the messes that come from doing the right thing.

Sometimes, obedience looks like closing doors you prayed would stay open. Sometimes, it’s deleting the text, walking away from the friend group, or speaking up when silence would be safer. Sometimes, it’s trusting God with your reputation when the world calls you “too intense” or “too Christian.”

But what does too Christian even mean? Last I checked, Christ didn’t go halfway to the Cross.

That’s why I can’t be halfway with Him.

Here’s the thing: partial obedience is still disobedience. Delayed obedience is disobedience. Conditional obedience is disobedience.

We don’t get to pick and choose. It’s either all in, or we’re playing church.

And I’m done playing church.

I’m done saying, “God, I’ll obey if…” or “I’ll obey when…” I want to be found faithful even when it’s dark, even when I’m scared, even when the outcome is unclear.

I want to be the kind of woman who obeys God with tears streaming down her face, with shaky hands and a surrendered heart, trusting that His way is better—even when it breaks mine.

1 Samuel 15:22 says, “To obey is better than sacrifice.”
God isn’t impressed by how many Bible studies I attend, or how eloquently I can talk about faith. He’s looking at the posture of my heart. Am I willing to obey Him when no one’s clapping, when it’s inconvenient, when it costs me everything?

Because that’s when obedience becomes real.

Jesus said in John 14:15, “If you love me, keep my commandments.”

This isn’t about legalism. It’s about love.

I obey because I love Him. I love Him more than my comfort. More than my image. More than my timeline or dreams.

And tonight, I want to say this out loud as a prayer:


Lord, forgive me for the times I’ve obeyed selectively. For the moments I negotiated with You as if You owe me options. You are not a consultant; You are King. Help me to walk in radical obedience—even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it costs me everything I thought I needed. I trust that what You ask of me is always for my good, even if I can’t see it yet. Make me the kind of woman who follows You without compromise. I want to live for Your glory, not my gain. In Jesus’ name, amen.

So here I am. A 25-year-old woman who doesn’t have it all figured out, but knows one thing for sure:

I’d rather be rejected by the world in obedience to God than accepted by the world in rebellion against Him.

And if obedience means I walk alone sometimes, I’ll still choose it.

Because I am committed.

Not halfway. Not occasionally. But fully, completely, and passionately—

Even when it hurts.